


Crazy Horse

by Emmithar



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27233926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmithar/pseuds/Emmithar
Summary: He even joked, halfheartedly, that since Arthur seemed so talented at acquiring new steeds, that he could go out and secure Dutch and Hosea something nice. Something like mustang, or a thoroughbred, for instance.And heaven help him if the boy hadn’t done exactly that.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 72





	Crazy Horse

It started out as a joke.

Dutch had seen the way Arthur eyed the horses on the way to town. A herd of them, wild and abundant on the outskirts of the plains. A longing in his eyes that he couldn’t hide, no matter how many times he said otherwise. And it was one particularly sunny day as they made their way back, loaded with supplies, that Dutch had suggested it.

Hosea had been against it, adamantly. Refused to entertain the idea even in the slightest, but Dutch brushed off his concerns and sent Arthur ahead anyways. The eagerness in his step was tangible, a smile split across his face as he crept through grass, edging ever closer to the herd. Hosea had continued to grumble, complaining that this was a bad idea, the comment prompting Dutch to laugh.

“ _Don’t worry; he won’t even get close to them.”_

But Arthur did.

The boy, perhaps fifteen at the time, had managed to get within a few feet of one. A lovely Chestnut Walker that grazed idly. The mare tossing her head when Arthur called to her. Dancing agitatedly, but holding her ground while the rest of the herd fled. And to both of their surprise, he managed to close the gap, a hand resting on her flank.

Before either of them could move, Arthur had mounted up. The panic and worry setting in, Dutch fully shocked, never have expecting the boy to ever make it that far. He spurred his own horse alongside Hosea, racing to get the foolish boy down before he broke his neck. But by the time they had gotten there, the mare had calmed under his hold, that same stupid grin splitting his face, the proud accomplishment lining every feature.

So they had four horses now.

Hardly a burden. In fact, it was almost a blessing. It gave them the chance to carry more supplies and Arthur was ever attentive to her. To both his horses, in fact. Seeing after them and spoiling them to the extent Dutch swore their own horses grew jealous. They never had a wild horse in their midst before; usually took them from the stables or stole them off unsuspecting fools. Of course, they had heard of people breaking in wild horses, and the effort involved, but damn it all if Arthur didn’t make it look easy. One would never have been able to tell that Clover, the newest addition, had any wild blood in her. She was, he had to admit, a good fit.

Arthur took her out for afternoon rides more often than not. Came back with a proud smile, announcing how fast she had ran, or showing off a new trick they had learned. And one afternoon, he came back with a second horse. A paint, this time, tied to Clover’s saddle.

Clover had made a friend apparently.

Hosea was just as stunned as he was. Arthur not even asking if the new addition could stay, simply hitching her next to the other horses and began brushing her down. Cooing to her softly, the paint readily approving of the attention and leaning into his touch. They debated, quietly, whether or not to make Arthur take it back. There was really no need for five horses. Ultimately they sided against it.

Because honestly, what was _one_ more horse?

Arthur was doing a fine job in taking care of them all, and they horses had plenty land to graze on. It might be nice, Dutch mused, to have a couple extra horses on hand, just in case. Last winter, his own horse had thrown a shoe out in the middle of nowhere, and he had ended up riding with Hosea to the next town. This way, there at least was some options; not that he _planned_ on running into trouble, but the simple thought of having something to fall back on eased his mind.

He even joked, halfheartedly, that since Arthur seemed so talented at acquiring new steeds, that he could go out and secure Dutch and Hosea something nice. Something like mustang, or a thoroughbred, for instance.

And heaven help him if the boy hadn’t done exactly that.

  
The very next evening, nonetheless. A smug grin on his face as he rode the paint in, a dark grey mustang, and a white speckled thoroughbred in tow. Hosea unable to say anything, only watching as Arthur hitched them both there, right next to the others. Later the man grabbed Dutch by the arm, dragging him somewhere quiet and hissed into his ear that _this_ needed to stop. Dutch had feigned innocence, eyebrow raised as he glanced at his newest horse, dubbed Caesar.

“ _You don’t expect me to look a gift-horse in the mouth, now do you?”_

The older man had frowned at that, had reluctantly occupied himself with the thoroughbred after Arthur had insisted, unable and unwilling to disappoint thier unruly son, it seemed. So now they had seven horses. Dutch had suggested maybe taking their old horses into town to sell, only to be met by backlash from the boy. Arthur right near growling at him, all but calling him an idiot.

“ _You see how they treat them horses in town? Plus they’d rob you blind, offer you a few dollars for them and say it’s a good deal. Don’t be a damn fool.”_

If he had his wits about him, he would have scolded the boy. He didn’t take too kindly to being called names, but honestly, he was mostly shocked, and somewhat surprised. Dutch hadn’t been _asking_ for permission to follow through, but it seemed as though Arthur had thought he was. The revelation led to a sleepless night, determined come morning to talk to the boy, to set things straight.

But Arthur had already taken off. Even before the sun rose.

And damn him, if he didn’t come back with yet _another_ horse. A poor, disheveled looking thing, skin and bones, lesions across it’s flank, the thing limping, almost. Dutch merely _asked_ about it, had the _audacity,_ apparently, to mention that maybe they had _enough_ horses. It was enough to send Arthur into a fit, the youth nearly yelling at him.

“ _They was beating her, Dutch! What the hell was I supposed to do?”_

He didn’t bother to ask what happened to the people who were doing said act. Part of him was afraid to know. So he merely watched from the fire as Arthur tended to her, gentle hands cleaning her wounds and bribing her with treats. Hosea sat across from him, a pointed look on his face, his voice quiet as he muttered ‘told you so’.

Dutch promised he would fix it.

Took him out the very next day. A gentle ride up into the mountains. No agenda, no plans, just the two of them. Dutch broaching the subject gently. Implying heavily that there was really no need for that many horses. That perhaps they should look at selling some of them.

Arthur acted as though he had been slapped. The pure shock on his face falling into anger and he spat and argued, before taking off. Dutch could barely keep up, the boy riding a fast little Nokota he had picked up just the other day. It wasn’t long before disappeared over the ridge, and Dutch gave in, returning to camp alone.

“ _He named them, Hosea. All of them!”_

The fool of a boy had actually named every single one. Had spat their names out, one after another, accusing Dutch of hating them. He didn’t; truthfully Arthur had acquired a lovely herd thus far. The animals gentle and tender, easy to handle, attentive. All of them melting under his touch, his soothing hold.

But they didn’t _need_ that many horses.

Already it was becoming hard to keep after them all. The hay they were purchasing was disappearing faster than they could secure, the grass all but grazed which forced them further and further out. And the smell...heaven help him did those beasts ever stink. You couldn’t walk two steps without stepping in one mess or another. And trying to keep their heads down with an entire herd of horses wasn’t an easy feat. Dutch was half tempted to just take a collection of them into town and sell them while Arthur was gone.

Almost did. Would have, had Hosea not stopped him. The man saying Arthur would never forgive him. He had a point there. But surely they couldn’t just do nothing? Hosea reassured him that he would attempt to reason with the boy once he returned.

And return he did, that same night. He shouldn’t have been shocked to see yet another horse in tow. Arthur shooting him a dirty look, as though _daring_ him to say something about it. He didn’t, only listened to the pair as Hosea greeted him. And he could hear Arthur tell the man that Dutch _hated_ them all. That that was the reason why he wanted to get rid of them.

Dutch _did_ hate the newest addition, if he was being honest. A shire this time, a behemoth. Towering over the rest, a dark speckled coat and enormous hooves digging into the dirt. The damn thing actually snorted when he tried to come near, snapping at his approach. Dutch was convinced that Arthur had gone out and found the biggest and meanest creature on purpose, as if he were proving a point.

But no...the boy could go up to that thing and throw his arms around its neck and hug it affectionately and the damn horse would seem to return the gesture. Hosea also had been able to approach, a bit more cautiously. Dutch did well to keep far away from the it. Brute, Arthur had named him. How fitting that was.

Hosea hadn’t said anything. Admitted to Dutch afterwards that he was going to wait till morning to broach the subject, not wanting to upset the boy right before he slept. He had called Hosea a coward, but didn’t find it in his heart to argue. He certainly didn’t want to deal with it. So they slept, uneasily, that night, and morning found the boy not in his tent, but rather instead plum in the middle of all his horses, head resting on Brute’s flank, with Clover and Spot and Honeydew and...well, he couldn’t remember all their names. But they all stood nearby, grazing idly, the paint he had picked up affectionately nibbling at his hair.

It was a sight to see. Warming his heart, unable to deny the tenderness of it all. But they were up to ten horses now...and apparently no end in sight. Curse him for even suggesting Arthur try and tame one. Had he known this was the result, he would have astutely refused the opportunity, and kept the boy moving. He remembered Hosea’s muttering of how it was a bad idea, and he now fully agreed. The only question that remained was, how did they fix it?

Because this could not go on. They could not adopt every damn horse he happened across.

Dutch could, without a doubt, simply put his foot down. Enough was enough, and this was ridiculous, getting out of hand far too fast. But how, was the question? The boy adamantly refused to even entertain the idea of selling them, determined they would meet some horrid fate. And setting them all free was not a feasible answer either. They would plod about after the boy and he had taught them to return with a whistle. He had done that once, had been on the outskirts of the camp, the call splitting the air. Damn near was a stampede as they all took off, Hosea startling from his afternoon nap and lunging for his weapons.

Arthur, of course, had found humor in that.

As he did here. The boy awake, sat in the middle of all his horses, cooing to each one affectionately. Brushing and stroking, their ears twitching as he whispered to them. He started singing to them softly, a smile on his face as he wandered now, making sure to give each one equal attention. And Dutch waited. Waited for Hosea to move. To do _something._ Even glanced at the man, as though to say ‘ _well, why don’_ _t_ _you go take care of it?’._

Hosea paid him no heed. Too entranced his coffee instead. Eating some bread and cheese, reading his book by the fire. He did shoot him an irritated glance when Dutch cleared his throat, but that was all. Finally, after what seemed like an enternity, the man finally moved. Dutch watching, waiting to see exactly how he was going to handle things.

  
But Hosea walked right past the horses and mounted his own. Shouted out that he would be back by the afternoon, and took off without a second glance. Dutch was left there, somewhat shocked and somewhat annoyed. Wondering if Hosea had purposely done this to force him to handle it. He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering, trying to come up with a plan. Wondered if it was too lurid to hire a group of rascals to come in and steal away the horses. Those ideas brewing in his mind, occupying his thoughts until well into the afternoon.

Until Hosea returned.

With a hound dog on his heels. He watched, shocked, as the plump and rotund canine came sauntering in, tail wagging and tongue lolling, racing up and into Arthur’s outstretched arms. His jovial glee heard even this far away. Had Hosea lost his damn mind? They had an entire herd of horses they were trying to get rid of, and the man had brought back yet _another_ creature.

Hosea had a sly grin on his face though, his voice loud enough for Dutch to hear. The ultimatum given; more a bribe rather, if he was being honest.

“ _You could keep her, if we had the room.”_

The indecision resting in his eyes. Attempting to barter. Claiming _there was_ room for this one small dog. Hosea was firm, unwilling to budge. Two horses, and the dog. Or else he’d take the dog right back to the farmer he had gotten her from.

Arthur was quiet, his fingers running through her coarse fur. The morose expression fading as the hound licked at his face that next moment. Finally the boy laughed, a stupid grin on his face.

“ _Sure-two horses and the dog.”_

Dutch felt relieved. The next day spent taking the horses out and letting them loose far from camp. The animals joining in quickly with another herd. He kept Honeydew, the Fox Trotter he had stolen from town, as well as Brute. Of course he would keep _that_ damn horse. The thing still vehemently opposed to Dutch for some reason.

But their vast herd of horses had dropped back down to four, with a firm promise from Arthur that he wouldn’t go collecting and bringing any more home. He was a bit sour about that, but it was quickly dissolved when playing with the hound, which he named Maggie.

They all went to bed happy; a weight lifted off their shoulders, glad to finally have that dealt with. They were roused in the early morning by Arthur’s excited shouts. Dutch blinking wearily in the early light, exchanging worried glances with Hosea as the boy’s holler split through the air. A new dread settling in their stomach.

“Quick! Come see! Maggie had puppies!”

Dutch let out a heavy sigh, watching the squirming bundles snuggle close to her belly. Arthur cooing gently over each one, damn near hysteric. Dutch rubbed a hand on the back of his head. Trying to figure out where they went from here. Near him, he heard Hosea snort, the man fighting off a chuckle.

“ _Well, at least it ain’t horses this time.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise...no one ends up hurt in this one! Shocking, I know....hopefully it's not too bad, seeing as it's out of my element. A bit different from what I normally write, but I couldn't get the image out of me head of Arthur being a crazy horse person and collecting every horse he could find :)


End file.
